


Fumbling in Love

by Misskiku



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-08
Updated: 2016-12-08
Packaged: 2018-09-07 07:17:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8788741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Misskiku/pseuds/Misskiku
Summary: Love is strange and not always straight-forward. A messy compilation of short stories between Yoosung Kim and the Main Character.





	1. Fumbling, stumbling in love

**Author's Note:**

> I love Yoosung. So much.   
> So have some fluff.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sweet kisses between Yoosung and MC

She rested back against the couch, listening with a smile to Yoosung’s gentle humming. The kettle boiled away in the kitchen, drowning out the clattering of mugs and that cheerful tune she couldn’t place. She stretched her legs out along the couch and glanced towards the kitchen. He’d stopped humming.

“How’s it going, Yoosung?” she called, tilting her head.

Something crashed loudly in the kitchen, making her jump. “A-Ah, yeah!” came Yoosung’s reply. “I thought I had a clean mug somewhere…” he trailed off into dejected mumbling. She could hear the sad pout in his voice. It was hard to hold back a smile.

“You don’t have to make me tea, you know,” she said. “It’s getting late, anyway.”

“No, I said I would– found it!”

She chuckled to herself and settled deeper into the couch. Moments later, a brightly smiling Yoosung emerged with a steaming mug of tea.

“Here you go!” he beamed and handed over the warm mug. “I would’ve liked to make you a coffee but I ran out…” He met her eyes expectantly, pursing his lips and waiting for her response.

She couldn’t help but find it cute. “You’ll just have to make me one next time.”

“Next time…!” He grinned, his eyes scrunching as his smile reached them. His cheeks dusted pink, glowing with warmth, with happiness at her words. He sank into the couch beside her, still smiling.

Her lips pulled up to match his smile. She took a tentative sip of her tea, relishing the warmth. “It’s nice,” she said. “Thank you.”

He breathed an embarrassed laugh. “I… feel really happy hearing you say that. Now I want to make you tea all the time!”

She laughed into the mug. He was just as cute, just as affectionate as he was in the chatrooms. The only difference was…

Her eyes drifted to his left eye, to the iris darkened and scarred. It didn’t bother her. Not if he didn’t mind it, not if it didn’t bother him.

But she knew.

She’d seen him, caught sight of him when he thought she wasn’t looking. He’d raise a hand up, pressing his fingers over his eye as if testing it. Other times, he’d drop his head, his laughter, his smile fading.

And then there were the headaches…

When it didn’t bother him, when he didn’t hide that it was affecting him, everything was the same. Except… they’d only kissed once. Again, that wouldn’t have bothered her so much if she didn’t know it was bothering _him._  

It wasn’t like there hadn’t been any opportunities, after all. They’d gone on dates. Walks through the park, dates to the cinema, to cafés… and yet, all they’d done was cuddle and hold hands.

He’d embrace her from time to time, holding her tightly, nuzzling deep into her neck until she could feel him smile against her skin. But when it came to kissing…

She glanced at him as she pressed her mouth to the mug, ready to take another sip. His eyes were on her lips, his own slightly parted. His shot his eyes up to hers before turning away hurriedly. A hot flush crawled up his neck.

She wondered if it was the tea making her feel so warm.

She lowered the mug to the coffee table and turned to him. A bead of determination grew inside her. She shifted, the couch depressing beneath her, and moved closer to him, as if to snuggle. He drew up his arm, welcoming her closer. But she didn’t lower her head, didn’t press it to his shoulder as he’d hoped. Instead, she met his confused gaze.

He swallowed thickly. She followed the motion with her eyes, purposely and slowly tracing them down his throat before raising them to his eyes.

“Yoosung…” she lowered her voice, saying his name as a sigh. They were so close, faces inches apart, so his name danced as a breath across his cheek.

He stiffened. She felt the motion, saw the tightening of his jaw, and flushed.

She’d blown it.

Her eyes dropped, hands clenching on her lap, as she quickly backed away. Heat creeped across her cheeks, burning across to her ears as her heart sank.

“Ah–” he startled at her movement, his hand catching hers. She paused. Felt the warm, gentle touch of his fingers as they melded with hers. Slowly, she turned to face him.

His eyes swam with emotions. They’d darkened, deepened with something she knew they were both feeling. They settled on her, holding a thread of desire that clouded over his fear.

It was now or never. “Yoosung… I…”

“Can I kiss you…?”

Her heart jumped at his words. It fluttered in her chest like a swarm of butterflies, buzzing, buzzing like electricity through her. She blinked and ran his words over again in her head.

Did he just ask to–

“I want to…” he continued, gazing deeply at her, into her eyes. They were so dark, pupils blown like she’d never seen. He shifted closer. His breath, so warm, so soft, brushed her lips. She could barely nod, barely manage the movement. Her eyes shut as he closed the gap between them.

It was nothing like last time. It wasn’t a simple press of his lips against hers, forceful and all at once.

It was slow. Tentative, gentle, as if testing this new, foreign ground between them. A soft caress of their lips on each other. He shivered at the touch. His mind was running crazily and soaring all at once. He wanted to memorise this feeling. The press of her lips against his, soft and tasting strangely bitter from the tea. Heat sparked through him, but this gentle kiss wasn’t enough to douse the burning flame inside her. She pressed her lips harder against his. He backed up slightly, a gasp fluttering from him, but still keeping his mouth against hers. She felt his gasp, felt that staggered intake of air, and knew she had him.

She snaked a hand around his neck and held him in place. He melted against her. All at once, he softened, stopped backing away, and indulged. His lips moved to match hers. They pushed, pulled, tugged at hers, following her in this fumbled dance of theirs. Her fingers trailed up the back of his neck before fluttering down again. The touch edged him on. One of his hands caught her hips. She took that moment to kiss him harder, pressing him back into the couch, and shifted so she was straddling him. She dug her knees into the couch on either side of his legs, keeping a distance between their bodies.

They didn’t have to go _there._ Not yet. She drew his bottom lip between her teeth, giving it a gentle nip, a firm tug. She sucked it, running her tongue along it, and was met with a heavy moan.   

She wanted to hear _that_ again.

Instead, their lips suddenly parted. She was drawn into a tight hug, his arms wrapped around her shoulders, pulling her right up against his chest. Rapid breaths, hot and staggered, panted by her ears. His neck, and breath, felt so warm.

She chuckled, the laughter in her chest reverberating against him. “Too much?”

He gave a strangled noise against her neck. It sent a shiver down her spine. Giving his neck a final stroke, a final dance of her fingers across his skin, she pulled away and sat beside him. His cheeks had blown cherry red. He didn’t meet her eyes but kept holding her hand.

She smiled. “I should go.”

He was still catching his breath. He nodded, though his eyes remained dazed.

She held back a laugh and leant closer. Her mouth brushed his ear. He tensed, but this time she knew it wasn’t in distaste. “There’s always next time…”

The tight gasp by her ear told her enough.

Oh, how she loved him.   


	2. Salt and Kisses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That couch sees a lot of action.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second person point of view here. Chapter inspired by some HC's on tumblr.  
> I'm using this story to flesh out my writing skills and messing around with pov.  
> Hope you enjoy!

Rain pattered against the windows as you snuggled deeper into the couch. Yoosung shifted beside you, tugging the fuzzy blanket further up over you both. It was a warm, lazy evening in his apartment that you decided to spend watching a scary movie.

A brilliant idea, it turned out to be.

Yoosung was more than eager to cuddle right up against you, cradling a bowl of chips in his lap. You snatched another chip as he jolted on cue with a crash from the TV. His eyes were wide, glued to the screen as the action unfolded. He had no idea you were more entertained by watching his reactions.

He hadn’t been kidding when he said he couldn’t stand horror. You stifled a snort, holding back bubbles of laughter in your chest as a faint whimper escaped his lips.  He was so cute, he didn’t even know.

You’d just turned to glance at him, barely angling your head towards him, when a scream tore from him. He lurched all at once, grabbing hold of the closest thing to him, which just happened to be _you._ Arms wrapped around your shoulders, the bowl knocked to the floor in a flurry of chips and salt, and a soft, sudden press of lips against the corner of your mouth.

So sudden that when he tore away you could hardly believe it happened. His arms still around you, Yoosung stayed close. So close. You could smell the salt from the chips on him, or was that you? Your breaths mingled. Warm and sharp like a gasp as your eyes met. There was no need for a blanket now. The room warmed between you. Heat rose to your face. His eyes shot to your lips that you knew were chapped and dry. On instinct, your tongue wet your lips, collecting a touch of salt.

“U-Um…” You felt his words against your mouth. He was so close, inches from you, yet neither wanted to back away. “C-Can… I kiss you…?”

A simple question that had your answer rise in your throat before you could think. “Y-Yes! Of course!” His embarrassed energy set you alight like a bundle nerves.

He didn’t waste any time closing the gap between you. His eyebrows knitted together, eyes again drifting to your lips and you no longer cared that you would taste like salt.

It was gentle, a feather-light touch that lasted but a second. A second that had your heart soaring and your fingers clenching into his shirt. Then it was over. He pulled back, face so red, a burning, burning crimson that reached his ears.

His embarrassment was obvious but as he met your eyes, as he lingered so close you could taste his breath, there was something else. A newfound confidence, a newfound desire. He shifted, rising up from the couch, pressing closer to you. Pressing another, brief kiss to your lips.

You settled into it, into another sweet touch, before he pulled away again. Your eyes fluttered open. Confusion couldn’t even register as he kissed you again. And again. He peppered your lips with gentle but firm kisses. Arms loosened around your shoulders as he shifted closer, as he held the couch for balance.

Your fingers wound into his shirt, dragging him closer and sealing his lips on yours. He pressed deeper, pressed into you, his knees digging into the couch as he settled over you. You hadn’t think he’d be one to straddle you, or make out on the couch, but you weren’t one to complain.

Not that you had the breath to speak, anyway.

His kisses ranged from light and sweet to desperate and needy in a line that quickly blurred. They were chaste and then _much more,_ but he always backed away, drew his lips from yours with quick breaths.

And then they were back, claiming your mouth again. Your head span. You were warm and hot and clinging to him, feeling nothing but him. The teasing way he pulled back had you leaning in for more. Following his lips with your own and causing him to gasp, to breathe a moan as you tugged him down for another deeper kiss.

The gaps between kisses faded as your hands wound around your neck. Your fingers ran through his hair, messing up his blond locks but all you wanted was to touch him more. To feel more. The hand he had pressed into the couch by your side drifted to your waist and then settled at your hip. His thumb hooked under your shirt brushing cool lines against your hip as he kissed you. As you kissed him. As everything blurred and became sloppy and desperate. The simple touch of his thumb became a brush of his hand, dragging cold fingers over your warm skin that made you gasp. The kiss broke into ragged breaths. You could barely breathe, barely keep your eyes open but he was the same. His eyes remained shut, pressed tightly closed. And he panted against your lips.

“U-Um…” he breathed, the croak of his voice sending a spear of searing heat through you.

Oh, this boy would be the death of you.

He leant forward, as if for more, but rested his forehead against yours. His fingers remained against your stomach, just resting, unmoving, before slowly retreating.

“Th-That was… um…” God. Now you couldn’t speak. You swallowed thickly, feeding your fingers through his hair. It was soft. And smelt like your shampoo.

You loved him. You really, really loved him.

“Good,” he said, _sighed_ , more like. “That was really, really good… heh.” He ended it with a soft breath of laughter that coiled in your stomach.

“Y-Yeah…” So much for coherence.

He rose from your lap, his warmth leaving with him. You realised with a flush that you were the one who pulled him down so that he’d actually been sitting on you.

You swallowed again. “So much for the movie.”

“Huh?” Yoosung jolted, eyes flicking from yours to the credits rolling up the TV. “O-Oh.”

Now you laughed. The poor boy looked so dejected, as if he’d ruined your movie night. “We should do it again sometime.”

He blinked at you, face still a burning, beet red.

“I’m not talking about the movie.” You met his eyes, really, _really_ met his eyes, and drew your lips into a smile.

“O-Oh!” His face lit up, brightening into a smile. He grinned like a child with a toy, eyes shining and gleaming. He laughed, an embarrassed but happy chuckle. “I think so too.”

 


End file.
